


Click

by relucant



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, possible oneshot, possible prologue
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-29
Updated: 2014-05-29
Packaged: 2018-01-27 00:25:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1708139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/relucant/pseuds/relucant
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cas heard it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Click

There is a clicking in a dark, empty room. It echoes with a dry resonance, like fingernails tapping over the walls, or the tick-tick-tock of a blind man’s cane, but there are no hands in that room, and no blind men.

Castiel isn’t in the room. He knows it’s empty, though he also knows, distantly, that it would be no less empty if he were inside. But he hears the clicking, the faint snick-snack that he heard when his world ended.

He thought he had gone numb when he saw the First Blade, dripping with Dean’s blood. He remembers a prayer that wasn’t his drifting up unbidden from his new memories: _please, God, make me a stone_. But somewhere behind the rage and the pain there was the hazy belief that he could fix it again like he fixed it before, that he’d find Sam, find Crowley, that he’d fucking find God, and they’d somehow fucking _fix it_.

But then he’d been standing guard outside Metatron’s cell when everything froze. Images of the last few minutes of Dean’s life had poured into his brain -- _blood-Sam-guilt-pain-Cas-blood-regret-love-pain_ \-- and his heart shattered further as he heard Dean choking out his last words, slumped in Sam’s arms.

Then the images had faded and Cas was standing back in Heaven with his head bowed. _Find Sam_ , the voice in his head chanted, redoubled in its silent litany. _Find Sam; find Dean. Find Crowley, God; find Dean. Find anyone, find fucking Lucifer; find Dean. Fix it, fix it, fixitfixitfixit_.

And then the voice of Crowley himself had bubbled up, distorted, and the bile was pooling in his throat before he saw anything.

“Open your eyes, Dean,” Crowley was saying, and Cas had sunk to the floor, ignoring the stares of the other angels. “See what I see. Feel what I feel.”

 _No_ , he prayed silently, desperately, praying the one prayer he never thought could cross his lips. _Let Dean Winchester be dead._

“Let’s go take a howl at that moon.”

Dean’s eyes flicked open, and in that moment the sound had ricocheted in Cas’ head for the first time.

Castiel knows the room is empty but the sound is no less real. He can see the bed, the last impression that Dean’s body made on it, but no one is in there.

The clicking ticks like fingernails, like a blind man, but all Cas sees is a scared little boy, small hands patting up the side of the bed.

**Author's Note:**

> Look, I don't really like even reading angst, let alone writing it, but I'm feeling blah as balls about my WiP bullshit and I kept thinking about that sound, and this happened.
> 
> I haven't decided whether to leave it as a tiny little one-shot or write more chapters to fix the unhappy, so -- any sort of feedback is like cocaine -- only with a slightly less deviated septum -- or any ideas or inspiration to make me never write shit like this again.
> 
> \--
> 
> I made a new tumblr so I can actually reply and follow. Find me at my still super-bare tumblr, [relucant](http://relucant.tumblr.com).
> 
> I'm nice.


End file.
